Keating,
It makes me feel like I’m Home Again
But by now the back left part of my head brain & skull is numb. I can’t see straight unless I tilt my head to the back left-the direction in which the numbness is pulling. Try it if you ever get this sensation-it’ll be the only option to see-I’m sure you’ve experienced this. To go further, my skin on my hands looks yellow. A growing pulsating yellow that attracts flies & maggots crawling from the corners of my infested room, covering my knees. I bat them away but for only a spilt second is there a clean spot of skin on my knee, then in a flash they cover it entirely-feasting on raunchy hair & leg skin.
It’s a race, a kid’s race, to what ever feels good. Make-Believe Fairies Sprinkle Dust on theses Boys. Like leaves feeling graceful lightly floating on down from a high bough touched by sunlight. The skunk cabbage looms in your nostrils & the bench is straight a head. The river wiggles & laughs at your sneakered feet. We climb trees with swaying agility & wide dreamer grip that latches to vines & bark.
It’s a giant battle between high stress & urgency all through the day everything is important I have to be respectful & responsible but then I watch the big burn fall down & it’s calm & a little darker than it was. It’s now a little colder & I feel calm.
My feet flop & my heads wags. I duck under at 3rd & Sixth Avenue. & Reach the Desired Vessel. I watch beauties pass & enemies slide but then the friends I’ll just never know wiz & smile past.
Could it ever be too late?
I feel so forced & at times believe if I make a move or breath too hard I’ll suffocate & my chest caves & my head bursts.
So I take a deep breath & hold it in I won’t respond until the elongated look has past
Then I’m just another asshole but I didn’t have to move a muscle or get hurt or care.
But I really do care & want to yell about it
Broken down convertibles & wooden play ground dreams
How did this letter turn to poem?
I feel it too & am glad I’ll be going over to Brooklyn Singing, “It’s never too late!”
The real thing is when you get those flashes of occurrences. Memories, let’s call them. & it’s not dark or grey or blurry but Clear.
Like knock knock knocking & then I smile & realize I’ve been here for a while, “Take these away from me.”
Somebody else will get them good, definitely
You didn’t want it there any way. It’s better up here with you.
So this blue eyed baby. She’s 22 & lost as fuck really. Her calves are the only thing mature about her. & her swagger her gait & drawn out stomp through the hallways & sidewalks proclaim Sexy & Driven, & her nose, so defined it’s broken but catches you & then her blue eyes & then her nose & then her eyes.
Up high in the W laughing & knowing it’ll go down but then when it came time I wasn’t in the mood. Sloppy Knocking now she didn’t understand.
“I’ll be Honest...” I started & she seemed to see me but she didn’t
A bagel separated the next morning is never a promising continental surprise.
Keating, man, I’ve been thinking a lot & it doesn’t ever get me anywhere & I feel like I should just stop stop stop motherfucker it’s been said it’s over don’t try again cause you lost. The dream is over she got fucked over. Don’t You See? I’ve been watching the parking meters & cursing. Then fuck this it’s not right. I’ll be honest I just watched a movie & felt like an asshole I did laundry & was hesitant instead of touching & exploring a new person. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her. It’s all me I’m just stuck in this train. I knew I shouldn’t have taken the fucking six! “The six! The Six! Why take the Six? It always has problems! It’s always the Six!” The gillied woman pokes in my ear.
“Sugar Blues”-Clyde McCoy
Keating I started a new steno-It’s one of those Nightdays that are transparent-Nothing seems to have it’s given meaning
F9-My seat number Flight 97 JFK to Denver I noticed that I left a very sentimental batty in my North Face jacket I was kinda high Brain tickled-the tickle that gains electricity the faster the limousine accelerates I have my brief case & I’m beginning to see the light
Chi-town brother Lights thrown down with sparkles add some water & you got a city writhing with Linked Fate-Will We Make it?
They sit in modern day Hell. A blank room with blank barbers shifting through rooms of hair piled to the ceiling cracking & combing over the windows. I have an arm cramp but I must be going-I am a genius-all the time-Jack-This shot’s for you.
I haven’t eaten Percocet in two days shy of two months-What does that say?
I was in the Hyatt Hotel in Chi-Town-Now I’m going further, passing boundaries & landing in ones I have yet to.
Rolling & tumbling through the Midwest-the white haired sleeping lady knows nothing of my mingling fingers searching her life & purse & my friend just got raped in the U.K. & I scream & the entire plane looks at me & denies anything is wrong & I scream & they deny & I give up-silence. I feed the evil-all she needs is denial & silence.
But when the train comes up I’m gonna jump & shout.
Now I’m in Iowa & the Duane Reade doesn’t exist but the cashier does. Slopping Mayonnaise Mayyy ooo way ooon naise all over Hotel Furniture & young bodies. The Cashier is going bald-Shouts her Comb Over. “But she’s so young! But she’s so hard working!” Pass me another cup of coffee & light my smoke, “But she’s so beautiful!”
“Push,” says the revolving door, I comply. Do I really have a choice? I don’t think so, so I shift past the open manholes spewing steamy sewage, lives, wives & knives that cut the cord & I fall up all the way up19 floors up. I got my brief case with all the appropriate briefings.
Let’s steal a table in the corner & drink pitchers of Miller Lite till we feel sober. Pitcher after pitcher, page after page, the only thing left to do is “To Write Our Selves Out!”
“Take Care America!” I’m stepping off my front porch & My Mind’s Wild & My Cock Hangs & Swings. My feet flop & my phone doesn’t ring-so I mouth a cigarette while passing through the wood & I breath deep as I flick the match into its desired purpose & Breath in the Sulfur & Breath in the Pine. I pass the erupting frogs & wave to their colorful asses & they leap & kick themselves in the asses. They hop through muddy waters & we are back @ the bar ordering another, “Yes, sir, may I have another!” But the he is a she & we dance wagging our tongues & souls into a cookoo twist.
“We real cool-“
“....We die soon.” Says Miss Gwendolyn Brooks.
Now it’s dark over Nebraska. Huh-I never woulda thought Nebraska. Here’s the real problem though Keating. My chest is caving in. My mind is wrapped tight by some tourniquet, I don’t want a shot-not now-it’s too soon. I tried to sleep but it’s no use I’m still tired, I tried to fuck but it’s no use I’m still horny, & I tried to get high but I’m not high enough. I just let loose & take time I’m doing the cool cool twist & my Pen won’t stop, she never will unless she freezes, but always carry a Pencil, cause yes Ink Freezes & always use a Bathroom when you see one cause you never know when the next Rest will be.
& They paved over Jersey street’s cobble. I screamed on that street but they all deny. Juan with a cool blue set of eyes & hair nice & not too greasy & a nose well defined but not protruding & he’s business savvy & sexual problems he won’t reveal. Fuck it, I tune out & lay down with the Red Haired yoga instructor-She’s magic. Heals my insides & shares my body then feeds me at a lengthy dinning table for more than ten & we all indulge & Lick Acid off each others privates squealing & convulsing &
Sadie’s sexxxy & the blood on the wall dries & cracks & I have no expectations & no idea what a goddamn thing is gonna give me but I’ll accept & receive & in turn, give Nakedness
‘Cause that’s all I got to give.
Sage took everything & so did the Berg’s with their contrived daughter & His OCD & Love for Bush.
Then the Mrs.’s Back Pain & the Princess’s eating disorder overheard by the equestrian next door. & her Bipolar & sexual advances on society at large.
Dear Keating,
Another day. A rainy day. Today. Another day I spend trying to read my handwriting— But, by Now I’m staring at this girl unknown to me. Beautiful-she hasn’t moved her mouth. Yet standing close to her friends but never really being there-arms crossed over the chest standing with feet crossed wearing tall boots. I’m just sprawled on the couch staring, “Why won’t she take a seat, do I not look comfortable?” I ponder-Afterwards not knowing if I’m talking aloud. Another goddamn hand cramp-but I must continue— pain rushing to the elbow.
So I unbuckle my belt and get even more relaxed and remember I’m in the library on 4th street staring at this Beauty making eye contact and she finally speaks rubbing her forehead,
“I want to have a cigarette.”
Is everyone addicted? The answer is yes.
But that’s not the point I haven’t got more than 4 hrs. of sleep and I can’t tell from real or dream Should I fuck my best girlfriend? Or would that screw up the friendship?
Can We still be friends after she comes all over my cock? ——–What if she sucks my balls? Could we still smoke and just chill?
Should I threaten my professor when he belittles me? I COULD TAKE HIM.
Or should I just jerk off and blow MDMA alone smiling?
I just want to smear the Midwest with my sweaty drunk palms & Lick America’s Pussy and Finesse her Ass Hole with my graceful finger.
But is it all worth it? I could get AIDS or MARRIED or CHILDREN.
I could do good & be Happy-But I think I’d rather increase the drip of whatever sedative is intravenously pumping through my tepid body & watch my pupils contract in the mirror after 10th grade at 3:37 after school,
“Can they tell I’m fucked up?”———–The New World of Daily Pills welcomed me with fuzzy nuzzles: hahatahahhhhahaaaaahahahhahhahahahahahahahahe heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyayyayahhahhahaehe.
The rain continued to sway. I lost it. Continued ranting and buying 12 minute keg stands and pieces of raw steak
Faces blotch together in the sway rock of subway car-Shooting through underground labyrinths with wrecking speed bypassing rats and a scurry of crackheads.
What the hell is going on the train stopped and the Asian smiled with her perk tits distracting the audience.
But what I’m really getting at is now he peed his pants twice. It was a Friday Nite and we stole the Infinity from John St. We ripped the West Side Highway causing accidents and laughing coffee spills.
Why do I always talk about coffee, now I wanna talk about cigarettes-Typical.
We crossed the George Washington Bridge and escaped through Route 4. and Route 17 – NJ- Let’s get high, tap the keg and start the night. Wiggling bodies pass through hallways. Bodies collaborating and turning mouths jabbering & eyes searching fingers passing and lungs smoking. No more pages for your hungry fingers to flip.
“What’s New?”
The swinging vine asks.
“How’s the world treating you?”
The splash of cities of towns glowing on the Black Construction paper below. Looking through the plastic window? My eyes flutter & glleeeeeeeeeeeeeeee——————————————————————— Fuck— Pass the butt I Need a Drag....